


Lead Us Out Of The Darkness

by sleepysailors



Series: Hear Me Out [2]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Deaf Racetrack Higgins, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 11:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18343226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepysailors/pseuds/sleepysailors
Summary: There was a tumblr post circulating from evil-crutchie "You know whats good? A newsie dying (preferably being murdered), and then his friends having to sell papers about it the next day."So I uh I did that. Sort of.  This is dark. I'm sorry.





	Lead Us Out Of The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> In case you’re reading this as a stand-alone here’s some background. Race is deafened, ASL is used in italics. Spot Davey and Les usually use their voice as well. This takes place after Jack started a job and passed the torch to Race and Crutchie who are trying their best to lead the house as a team.

There is always a calm before the storm; and in Manhattan it had been too quiet for too long. Racer watched as the main floor of the lodging house was taken over by games and books and dancing. Two of the little girls played beauty shop with Katherine as she braided their hair in neat twists. While her hair looked more like a birds nest instead of a royal up-do no matter how insistent the girls were. Meanwhile Jack and Mush were taking turns with the boys playing piggyback jousting. It was a perfect night for all involved yet a chill still ran up Racer’s spine.

 

“ _Race_?” The hand waved in front of his face bringing him back to the moment.

 

His head snapped up in confusion before smiling at his friend.

 

Crutchie passed him the deck of cards, “I’m  _ready_ , teach.” He grinned before settling in across from him.

 

The forgotten promise to teach him how to count cards flashed across his mind as he cocked his head.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah. Just thinking.” Racer shrugged before fanning the deck face up in front of them. “So the first thing you do is break the numbers into piles…” The boys sat rapt in the game for hours slowly but surely adding decks to the pile until Crutchie had it down pact.

 

In no time at all it was too close to lights out for any of their liking. None of the kids seemed to want the warm Spring day to end. Their protests were silenced with talks of headlines and full bellies but that was only possible if they tucked in.

 

Racer and Buttons made their way through the littles’ bunk room smoothing blankets and foreheads as they went. Les followed the two through the room double checking their work, although no one had appointed him an official position even if Katherine often teased that he was the liaison between the littles and the bigs.

 

Les laid in his bunk up on his elbows after making sure everyone else was in bed as he waited for his friend to stop for a final goodnight. Sure enough Racer always took a seat at the foot of the bed for quick chat, Davey had stopped offering to check on his little brother after being shooed away more times than he could count. Les scratched his head in thought barely smiling as he felt the bed dip down with Racer’s weight.

 

“Hey, what’s that face for?” The older boy asked grabbing at his legs in an attempt to make him smile.

 

“ _Nothing._ ” Les offered with no further explanation. His usual chatterbox self was normally the hardest to get to lay down but tonight he burrowed further under the covers without a fuss.

 

“Kid.” Race started as he moved to the head of the bed, crouching next to him and brushing his hair out of his eyes. They’d all need a haircut sooner rather than later, he made a mental note to ask Katherine to give Les a trim tomorrow after selling. He turned off his voice for the sake of privacy; a luxury so often sought after in the house full of kids.“ _You can talk to me you know_?”

 

“I-” Les started before bringing his hands out from under the covers “ _I_ _miss Skip_.”

 

Racer nodded knowingly as he continued to stroke his hair.  It had been almost three months since the littlest member had joined their patchwork family and five days since he had last come home. He had instantly been named Skip. The promise of food and a warm bed wasn’t enough to get him out of the gutter, it wasn’t until Crutchie began singing “Skip to my Lou my darling” that he was willing to be lead, or danced inside.

 

It took Jack, Crutchie, and Racer lying their tails off to get Mister Kloppmann to let the four year old live there. The three all swore up and down he was five, for sure five maybe even five and a half; even as the kid demanded he was four. Younger sells, but too young lands you in an orphanage.

 

“ _Me too buddy, me too. He’ll be home soon, ‘s probably just with his folks._ ” He lied, remembering finding him covered in filth and muck, his parents never made it off the boat.   

 

“ _P_ _romise_?” Les asked his eyes lighting up with some hope.

 

“ _Have I ever lied to you_?”

 

“No.” Les spoke breaking the silence. His brows knit together for a moment in thought, “But that’s still not a promise.”

 

Racer shook his head with a chuckle, both Jacobs’ boys were going to make fine lawyers someday. “I promise then, happy now?”

 

Les nodded wiggling further under his covers, satisfied, before almost instantly drifting to sleep.

 

The sleepy silence of the littles dorm was always intoxicating. Anyone could feel the dreams their overactive imaginations were cooking up as soon as they hit the pillow.  “Goodnight my mini men.” Race whispered before shutting out the light and turning them over to the comfort of dreamland.

 

The worries of the night before were long forgotten as the sun rose and the morning bell sung out that Tuesday morning. Spirits ran high as Les road on Albert’s back all the way to the church. The nuns must have been feeling extra generous. They handed out what seemed to be fresh, by the nuns standards at least, biscuits with small dollops of butter. Crutchie chatted idly reciting the number values of the cards attempting to cement the counting cards in his head. Race watched as Les attempt to lick the butter off of Davey’s biscuit without his knowledge. His tongue just reached it when his brother looked down and snatched it away scolding him in their own secret language. He chuckled as he took a bite of his own breakfast absentmindedly counting the heads of his crew.

 

It never made sense to him how Jack loved all of them equally until they belonged to him. Each had their own flaws, their own likes and dislikes, and each of them were absolutely perfect in his eyes. His boys, his family, he glanced up at the statue of the crucifix behind the open church door and silently thanking the Lord for everything that led him to them.   

 

With almost full bellies and buttery lips Crutchie called the group to attention before marching them towards the circulation gate. The games had yet to stop. The small hoard had at least two games of tag along with countless piggyback rides inside of it. Shrieks of giggles pierced the brisk morning air as dreams of good headlines and a real meal for dinner filled their heads.  

 

Once inside Buttons, supervised by Les, began organizing the littles into their selling teams as the headline went up. Les broke free of ‘his’ group to stand next to Racer as the man prepared to write the headline.

 

“Don’t worry I’ll tell you what it says,” Les teased still in a silly mood.

 

“Will ya now?” Race asked poking at his belly earning giggles from the boy, “And who taught you to read?”

 

“My mama. Who taught you? Your cigars?”

 

“Your mama taught me…” He trailed off remembering he was talking to a 10 year old. “This!” He yelled picking up the boy and flipping him upside down. Les looped his knees over Racer’s shoulders shrieking with giggles as he began to shake him lightly. “Ain’t so smart now huh!”

 

Les screeched in mock distress earning his brothers attention. “ _What are you doing_?” David signed poking his little brothers exposed tummy.

 

“Shaking all the brains out. Kids got too many of them.” He felt the vibrations as another wave of laughter took over. “Betcha can’t read upside down.”

Mister Wisel climbed the ladder to write the headline on the board. The first word came up in big bold letters, **_Body_ ** **,** a cheer rang out through the crowd as the Weasel dropped his piece of chalk.

 

“Oh I hope it nice and bloody!”

 

“You think we’ll get details”

 

“I call sellin’ at the scene!” This one was met with a series of grumbles that only died down when the the man picked up the piece of chalk and finished the headline.

 

 **_Body of Newsboy Found in Central Park_ ** _._

 

Racer wordlessly set the boy back on his feet.The silence was palpable as Les looked up red faced and brown eyes sparkling with worry, “You don’t think-?”

 

His question was cut off as Racer broke from the pack; slamming the first coin that he grabbed out of his pocket down and attempting to grab a paper. The Delancy’s took their sweet time undoing the twine but even they didn’t seem up to stirring trouble, not today at least.

 

“Not mine, not mine.” Racer mumbled chewing on his lip as he bounced on his feet impatiently. He snatched a paper from Oscar’s hands ignoring the other nine that he held out to him.

 

Sure enough, the headline glared at them as promised. It was accompanied by a perfect sketch of a face he knew too well. The details brought any hopes crashing down around them. A young boy looked out at them. Cheeks still full of baby fat, ears that were slightly too big for his head hidden under a mop of inky black hair, all held together with eyes so bright they must have held stars within them. Skip.

 

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes forcing the tears to stay right where they belonged. Skimming the article he prayed it was a look alike, a mere coincidence. _Y_ _oung boy found slain…stabbed to death... anyone with any information on the child's identity is asked to come forward…newsboy from The World..._

 

The world swam in and out of focus as his boys crowded around to see the picture. A tug on his sleeve grounded him only a bit. He wiped his eyes as he attempted a small reassuring smile to Les.

 

“ _You promised_.” Les signed before turning and clinging onto his big brother, hoping he could keep the ground under his feet from crumbling.

 

He gazed out on his sea of newsboys, each of them more lost than the next. All looking to him for some kind of guidance or reassurance or something. Each set of eyes more oppressing than the last. Bile bubbled up from his stomach and before he could even think to stop it his breakfast made a reappearance on the ground.

 

“Race?” Crutchie asked laying his nonspeaking hand on his shoulder.

 

The simple touch burned, it was too much to handle. With the paper in hand he took off like a shot, his boys parting like the Red Sea as he headed for the only person the only thing that could make everything okay. Spot.

 

His lungs burned in protest as his legs begged for just a moment's rest, but a glance at the picture in his hand made him press on harder, faster. His vision began tunneling as he found his target.

 

Spot had one of his little guys, Connor, hoisted high on his shoulder as he called out headlines with a smile. How had everyone acted so normal, hadn’t they realized the world was ending? Racer’s lips were tinged blue at the corners by the time he collided with Spot nearly making him drop his charge. His breaths were fast and uneven but that was almost always a given. His face soaked with tears, that was something new.

 

“Be right back squirt.” Spot ruffled the little ones hair and began leading his friend to somewhere more private.

 

“NO!” Race bellowed scrambling to get away from Spot. Race quickly grabbed the young boy by the wrist as he looked to his leader in confusion, “You can’t leave him!” Race yelled  not letting go of his thin wrist no matter how much the little one squirmed and tried to pull away.

 

“Anthony.” Spot pressed his hands firmly onto his shoulders “Let him go. Now.”

 

“Don’t leave him alone.” He pleaded again eyes darting every which way.

 

“You’re scaring him. Now let him go.” After some consideration he loosened his grip only slightly as he slipped out, and instantly hid behind Spot’s legs. With a quick call out to any of his kids in earshot Connor was taken by Dutchy. Spot grabbed Racer too firmly by the arm leading him to a darkened alleyway. “What the hell was that.” He demanded shoving him, his usual softness calloused by his overprotective nature. His boys first, God second, everyone else last. No exceptions. Ever.

 

Racer’s hands shook as he handed across the paper. “Spottie.” he whimpered as his legs shook underneath him.

 

“ _Oh, oh kid no_.” Spot guided him to the ground as sobs overtook him. “He’s yours ain’t he.” Spot knew the answer, as he began pressing him into his side, anything to hold his world together for just another second. He rocked him gently, placing kisses useless mutterings of false reassurances into his hair.

 

A nod was the only answer he could manage.

 

“ _How are the boys taking it_?” He asked as he began rubbing small circles into his back.

 

“I-” Race started before realizing his voice was useless. “I don’t know.”

 

Spot stopped rubbing for a second as a prompt to continue.

 

“I- I just left I didn’t know what else to do.”

 

Spot held him firmly a second longer. Allowing him slowly to collect himself before speaking. “ _You have to go back_.”

 

“I can’t,” Racer choked out the words being overtaken with tears again.

“ _They need you_.” The words came out as more of a command than anything,  “ _T_ _hey need their leader. How do you think they feel? You don’t get to leave. You don’t get to detach like that. You gotta keep it together_.”

 

“I can’t do this! Spottie I ain’t cut out for this shit!” They sat a moment in silence, purely because there was no counterpoint to be made. No one could ever be cut out for this situation. The sadness began slowly seeping away as rage took its place. “He was a baby! A fuckin baby and you tell me I need to get over it? Just like that?” He pushed Spot away from him face red and eyes glaring.  

 

“You don’t have to get over it.” Spot held his hands in surrender, “You do have to be there for your kids.”

 

A dark laugh escaped his lips as the fire still burned behind his eyes.

 

“I’ll tell you what. You have ten minutes.”

 

He cocked his head in confusion.

 

“Ten minutes you get to be mad and scream and break shit and be pissed. But being mad ain’t gonna bring that little guy back. It’s just gonna hurt you and your boys. Ten minutes of anger and then you have to hold it together for one minute.”

 

Surely Spot Conlon; the Boy King of Brooklyn, the one who beat up another kid on the Steeplechase at Coney Island, was not telling him how to manage his anger.

 

“Fuck you.” He spat back at him. Spot stood up and began heading for the mouth of the alley when Racer’s voice pulled him back. It was too soft, almost defeated, the voice of a child who was in way over his head. “What do I do after that?”

 

He crossed the alley and pulled Racer to his feet; taking his time gently dusting him off before speaking. “You hold it together for one minute. And then another. And another.” He wiped the tear stains from his face with his sleeve. “You be there for your kids. The little ones who don’t understand. The big ones who are gonna pretend they're too tough to hurt. You’re the leader. You don’t get to do this. They’re the ones who get to hurt right now. You get to hurt when they’re not around. But for now we go to the police we tell them his name and we get him buried right and proper. One minute at a time. Understand?”

 

Race nodded only slightly, “Fake it til you make it.”

 

“Exactly.” Spot pulled his forehead down to his lips in a soft reassuring kiss. “Head back over I need to find Itey but I’ll be there soon I promise.”

 

“-kay” Race muttered behind another sniffle.

 

“Do you want your ten angry minutes now or do you want to save them for later?”

 

“Later.”

 

Spot squeezed his hand before turning and heading to find Itey. Knowing that if he wasn’t the one to leave they’d both be in that alleyway until the end of time.

 

Even with a fifteen minute head start Spot still caught up with Racer halfway across the bridge. They walked in silence. There was nothing either of them could say to fix this.Spot thanked the lord he couldn’t hear the wretched headline the boys were calling out. Only a few voices cracked behind sniffles but the rest had seemed to either have burnt themselves out or it hadn’t hit them yet. Buttons and Crutchie seemed to have sorted them in larger groups spread further out through the city. Four littles to two bigs. Even in a pack they still seemed so small compared to the concrete jungle.

 

“Extra Extra! Child’s body found! Lock your doors tonight!” Spot swallowed hard trying to ignore the fact that for once that headline wasn’t just bait.

 

The day went by in a whirlwind. The police station stunk of sweat and rot yet the clock on the wall still ticked out one minute at a time. Racer starred it down clinging to the second hand, his finger tapping in time with it. One minute at a time. The police took their statement seeming uninterested after discovering there was no next of kin to contact. The adults brushed them off with a false “We’ll be in touch.” With that the pair headed to the church. Racer’s head swam as he glared down at the same crucifix he was so grateful towards hours earlier. God protects little children, that’s what he had always been taught at least. God protects children and drunks. He chewed on his nail quietly wondering, if that was a lie what else had the church lied to him about. Mother Mary suddenly seemed cold and distant, not someone who was listen but just as cold and hard as the stone she was carved from.

 

The priest finally interrupted the boys time of silent reflection and led them to a small room at the back of the altar. Spot lead the meeting silently squeezing Racer’s knee in a plea to get him to speak or to at least stop glaring daggers at the man. After quick thank yous Spot lead Race from the church guiding him by the small of his back. They both were startled when Racer stopped at the front door and turned once more to face the church. He spat in the fount of Holy water before exiting as he ignored Spot’s irate signing.

 

They fell into an uneasy silence neither of them sure to speak. Hours of silence passed them by with Racer tapping out sixty seconds at a time. It wasn’t until well past four did he finally speak, “I think I’ll take my ten minutes now.” He muttered finally looking up from the carpet.

 

“ _Do you want me to join you_?” Spot cautiously offered.

 

Racer shook his head his curls bouncing and falling into his eyes. Spot listened as doors throughout the house slammed behind him as he made his way to the alley. Smashing, and rattling bangs punctuated by screams seeped through the walls. The screams faded after minute five and turned into wails. Pain and anguish no child should ever feel. By minute seven all that was left was a steady *thunk* sound against the brick wall. Steady, rhythmic, almost calming. Minute ten came and went as did the thumping. After a few more filled with nothing but silence, Racer came through the front door. Face streaked with tears and knuckles dripping with blood. Spot wordlessly crossed the room and collected him into his arms.

 

Racer let himself be lead to the washroom to have his knuckles wrapped in makeshift bandages before falling into an uneasy sleep on the couch. Ten minutes well spent.

 

The boys filed in, pockets heavy with coins but none of them seemed up to eat. Les was the first to approach Race and Spot. He gave Race a gentle poke waking him into his living nightmare.

 

He blinked around gauging the room. Solemn faces greeted him wherever he looked until his eyes settled on Les. “Hey buddy.” He smiled voice still rough from strain.

 

Les silently held out an old can filled to the brim with coins, the aluminum rusted and label long forgotten.

 

“What’s this?” Race asked pushing himself up out of Spot’s lap.

 

“We want to bury him right.” Les said eyes cast to the ground. “We took our extras and we all talked about it.” Les gestured at his own group of kids crowded behind him as a tear came to his eye.

 

Racer glanced at Spot and back to the boy in front of him. He couldn’t stop himself from pulling the boy into a crushing hug as the can full of pennies and nickels clattered to the floor. He muttered soothing words of nonsense into his hair as he finally felt Les relax into him taken over by tears as well. Les clung to his shirt letting himself dissolve in the reassurances and comfort. After a while he pulled the boy from him chest as he hiccuped between sniffles.

 

“Thank you,” Race smiled as Spot continued rubbing his small back. “But we have it under control.”

 

“But,” Les sniffled wiping his nose on Racer’s sleeve, “He was one of mine. It’s my fault.”

 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath pulling Les closer. “Oh buddy no no no.” He soothed as he felt him shake with sobs again. “It’s not your fault it’s no ones fault. Don’t you worry about money or other kids for one more second okay? That’s my job that’s on me.”

 

“But-” Les mumbled into Race’s shoulder.

 

“No buts. Your job is to be a kid and drive him crazy.” Spot said gently patting at him. “Not worry about,” He trailed off, not worry about burying his friends, was what he planned to say. “Not worrying about anyone but you. Okay?”

 

Les nodded his agreement still allowing himself to be held by Racer. It wasn’t until Jack came home was he willing to leave one warm lap for another.

 

When everyone seemed to be home for the night Race called his crew to attention with a sharp whistle. Spot squeezed his bandaged hand once urging him to speak.

 

“Alright guys. Today, well I’m not gonna lie today was hard. Really fucking hard. Skip was a great kid with a smile that lit up any room and we’se gonna miss him something awful. I 'member the first day we got him here Crutch had made up so many verses of Skip to my Lou that it was just nonsense. But he still had that smile." He paused, he could go on for hours about any one of his boys but this was their time. "Anyone want to tell any stories of him?” He asked opening the floor for stories to bounce around.

 

Jack started them off telling them how he found him covered up to his elbows in charcoal three days after he moved in. He said that ‘Miss Katie Kat did it.’

 

Crutchie went on to tell how he lost his hat and borrowed his insisting that it was his even as it fell past his eyes.

 

Les told one of how after the first few nights Skip would crawl into his bed shortly after lights out until both of them fell asleep. He talked about how it was like having a little brother and how nice it was.

 

Race nodded along to the stories that flowed from his boys picking up words here and there. But this wasn’t for him. It was for them. Almost as if they’d be able to speak the little guy back into existence somehow.

 

After the stories quieted he called them to attention again. “He… he deserved better. Much better. But we’se gonna give him the best we can. The nuns at Trinity well they agreed to bury him for us. Right and proper. A nice casket and flowers. A real plot. We’se gonna send him off how he deserves.” He took a breath through his nose to keep his voice even and calm. Spot nodded, telling him to continue. “The police are looking for the bast- for the man who did this. But for now I want some new ground rules. No one I mean no one goes out alone. You piss you take a buddy, a pape blows away you take a buddy. Got it?”

 

He was met with a series of murmured agreements before speaking again.

 

“Alright, you kids head up stairs for a bit okay? The grown ups need to talk.” A few of the youngest ones headed up the stairs no problem. “You too Les.” Race offered a small half smile before tacking on in their not so secret language “ _I_ _’ll be up soon_.”

 

Spot offered Les his hand and led him to the stairs with a soft, “Come on.”

 

After all the little ones were out of earshot Racer dropped his voice to address the rest of his boys. All of their attention was on him. Not even Albert and Elmer where fidgeting. His voice came out firm in deep barking orders. Any playfulness that was there this morning was long dead. "Listen here. The little-uns, they’se your charges now. We’se going with them till this bastards behind bars. Anything that happens to them is on you. We talked to the police, they’se lookin’ for him but they need our help.” Yells of disapproval rang out from the group. Racer glared at them silencing their protests. “I hate the bulls as much as you. But it's for the kids. I wanna know if there’s anyone suspicious coming by. Some man buys more than one pape. You get his name. Someone keeps stopping by you get his name. Someone is too friendly with one of our little uns you…” He gestured for them to reply.  
  
“Get his name.” A chorus rang out.  
  
“That’s right. This ain’t gonna be easy, this ain’t gonna be fun, but we watch our own. Heaven knows no one else is. We mourn when we’re home and we keep our heads on out there. We need to stick together and most importantly look out for one another. Got it?”

 

A series of mumbled agreements came from the group but no one seemed to be protesting.

 

“Good. Now finish your chores an’ head up stairs. I love you all but I’m beat.” Racer finished with a quick, “Dismissed.”

Race wrapped up answering any questions that popped up here and there. Jack gripped his shoulder firmly in a silent ‘well done’ before heading off to bed himself. Spot waited in the wings for the group to disperse before approaching the boy.

  
“How’d I do?” Racer asked his voice shaky still holding back his tears.  
  
“ _Perfect. Come here. One minute at a time._ ” Spot signed before allowing him to finally crumble in his arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think. I'm not entirely pleased with it but if i keep poking at it it gonna turn to shit and get deleted really quickly. Also I'm terrible at grammar so sorry about that...


End file.
